


Decorating Your Partner

by Guanin



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Other, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: It was Christmas and Aziraphale needed to put up his Christmas display. For those customers who thought that sleeping Crowley must be a very realistic statue that Aziraphale kept for some reason, having a snake in the midst of Christmas décor would look odd. But Aziraphale couldn’t ask Crowley to move for that. Still, there might be a solution. Sort of. Crowley wouldn’t mind, would he? Surely not.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 214
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Decorating Your Partner

One November afternoon, Crowley transformed into a snake, curled up in a corner of the bookshop, and fell asleep. Finding him shortly after, Aziraphale smiled at the adorable picture he made, long body all tucked into himself, his head lying on top, snoozing away. He was humbled by Crowley’s show of trust in resting in Azirphale’s abode. The idea of closing yourself off from the world in unconsciousness, the vulnerability of it, frightened Aziraphale. He had never attempted to sleep, nor did he have any plans to do so. Crowley didn’t see sleep that way, of course. For him it was a welcome change to enter the land of dreams and let the world pass on by without him needing to experience every moment of it. Not all his dreams were pleasant, but he looked relaxed now. He had slept much better since they averted Armageddon. 

Aziraphale left him to slumber to his heart’s content, despite Crowley having chosen a most inconvenient spot to nap. The corner was at the front of the shop, where he easily spooked customers, who never returned, although that wasn’t the worst thing, once Aziraphale thought of it. Crowley slept on. And on. December came around, yet Crowley was still asleep. Aziraphale began to frown. While Crowley was prone to sleeping for large chunks of time, Aziraphale hadn’t expected him to do so now. Perhaps he should wake him up. Crowley wouldn’t mind, would he, not if Azirphale was keeping him from oversleeping. 

But when Aziraphale extended a hand to touch Crowley, he hesitated. Crowley looked so peaceful. Would he be bothered if Azirphale woke him, after all? He did so love to sleep. It had the most beneficial, restorative quality for him. Maybe it would be best for him to linger a bit longer. 

However, it was Christmas and Aziraphale needed to put up his grand, Christmas display, filled with garlands, holly, trees, the works. For those customers who thought that Crowley must be a very realistic statue that Aziraphale kept for some reason, having a snake in the midst of Christmas décor would look odd. But Aziraphale couldn’t ask Crowley to move for that. Still, there might be a solution. Sort of. Crowley wouldn’t mind, would he? Surely not. 

Very gently, Aziraphale placed a Santa hat atop Crowley’s head, watching carefully for any sign of wakefulness. Nothing. Oh, the hat looked so darling on him. He simply must take a photograph. Where was his camera? 

A frustrating search yielded no camera. Drat. If he tarried much longer, Crowley might choose precisely this moment to wake up and wonder why there was a Santa hat on his head. Although, Crowley’s telephone was sitting right on the table. But how did one operate one of these machines? He’d never seen the point of learning how. He already had a computer for his needs, and he wasn’t the most amenable towards using a telephone as it was. Still, needs must. 

Picking up the device, Aziraphale pressed one of the buttons on the side. Nothing. Which one turned it on? 

Aha! The next one worked. A photograph of Aziraphale reading in his favorite armchair appeared. A smile bloomed on Aziraphale’s face. Oh, wasn’t that sweet? But instructions would be more helpful right now. Let’s see. Crowley always touched the screen. Aziraphale tapped it. Nothing. He pawed at it. The screen changed, displaying an electronic keypad. He had to enter a code?

“How am I supposed to know what the code is?” Aziraphale moaned in despair. 

All he wanted was to take a sweet picture of his partner. Why did it have to be so difficult? 

“It’sss 0146,” Crowley said.

“Ah, thank you,” Aziraphale said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Wait. Crowley? Swiftly, Aziraphale turned around, finding him slithering towards him, the hat still affixed on his head. 

“If you wanted to take a picture,” Crowley said, “all you had to do wasss asssk.”

“I know. But you were sleeping so peacefully. Even if you have been at it for a bit overlong. But I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Are you sssure you jussst didn’t want to misss the chance to put more decorationsss on me?”

Crowley reared up, fixing Aziraphale with an unmistakably sharp look. It shouldn’t be possible for a snake to be this expressive, and yet he was. Aziraphale refused to fidget. Much. 

“It’s not a decoration,” he said firmly. “It’s a hat.”

“Which you were usssing to make me fit in with the décor and ssso people won’t think I’m real and be ssscared. It’sss decoration.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest again, but the fight drained out of him.

“Oh, alright,” he said, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, dear. But it is Christmas and there have been comments. And you look so cute in the hat.”

Crowley raised his chin in a gesture that looked an awful lot like preening for someone who was protesting about his appearance. 

“In that cassse,” Crowley said, “I’ll allow it. But I’m posssing my way.”

Sinking back to the ground, he slithered away. Nervous, Aziraphale followed him to the front of the shop, where a customer stood browsing through the 19th century texts by the entrance. She gave a little shriek when she saw Crowley, and jumped back. Ignoring her, Crowley climbed atop the Christmas tree beside the door and wrapped himself around it like a Halloween garland, jutting his head out atop the star tree-topper and baring his fangs menacingly. The woman quickly put down the book she had been examining and slipped out the door. Aziraphale sighed. Oh, dear Lord. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to talk her out of making a purchase. 

“You’ve made your point,” Aziraphale said, crossing his arms and frowning at Crowley in displeasure. “Now get down from there.”

Cackling, Crowley slipped off the tree and resumed his bipedal form, hat still on his head. Stepping forward, he grasped the back of Aziraphale’s head and pressed a loud kiss on his cheek, as if that even counted as an apology. Alright, perhaps a little.


End file.
